


My name is Love

by cortchuzska



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:26:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cortchuzska/pseuds/cortchuzska
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  
<em>'What is thy name?'</em><br/>
<em>'My name is Love.'</em><br/>
<em>'He lies, his name is Shame'</em><br/>
<em>'I am the Love that dare not speak its name.'</em><br/>
</p><p>Of prophecies, dreams and secret loves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My name is Love

The girl often visited him, with deep purple eyes like the sky lingering between sunset and night and hair as the trails of falling stars, yet her features were veiled by morning mist: for that was how things were supposed to happen with Targaryens, and Rhaegar had just turned fourteen, but he had no sisters, not even a distant cousin, and such a one would never come to his bed but in dreams.

Of her he wistfully sang, pining for his unattainable love.

It was because of a prophecy in an old book that Rhaegar turned to the training yard; but it took him long to acknowledge it was not the reason why he had kept on drilling with such determination to become one of the finest knight in a short time, for what he felt was not as easy to read, and to realize her blurred features threatened to morph into a face. Those eyes were still purple, and the hair like spun silver, but he was not that sure his nights visitant was a girl any more.

Yet such love looked more than impossible, for it was never sung of, and only dreaming of it was so wrong as to be unspeakable. Rhaegar thought it was not for him to find happiness, and grew even more withdrawn and melancholic.

He had not a soul to share his misgivings; not a close friend, for Rhaegar had been a lonesome boy and had none; not a father, nor an understanding uncle, a family friend or a tutor he could trust.

His father and his uncle were the same person; and not one you would ask for counsel. Tywin Lannister, the closest to a friend the king's twisted mind could reckon as such from time to time, as far as his thwarted notion of friendship went, would likely dump one of his twins in Rhaegar's bed. He had thought of maester Aemon, but he was too far away, and it was not a matter discussed by raven. As to Pycelle, something in the man gave him the creeps, and the rest of the maesters were not sworn to ward the king and his secrets, let alone his son's; he had still sense enough to understand his was one worth keeping.

Rhaegar turned to the Kingsuard; not the ones most would think of, with all their vows, but Prince Lewyn was known to have a paramour – he'd better let it out, only hint at it, just to remind him about keeping secrets; and the Dornish were said more lenient...

“No, my prince. We are told to be wanton and depraved, for we are anything but forgiving.”

At his proud reply, Rhaegar took a wary sip from the cup he had been offered. He had to try his best not to grimace.

“You are not used to Dornish sour, are you?” snorted Lewyn, slowly savouring his wine.

Arthur Dayne, sweaty from practice, flung open the small cell door, wielding a parchment with Sunspear sigil, “An urgent raven, still smelling of orange flowers: how I miss the Gardens! Drinking alone? It won't do; you'd better share that amazing, rich Salt Shore of yours; I have a thirst.”

He stepped in before noticing Prince Rhaegar sitting in a corner, and stiffened in a formal bow.

“Please stay, Ser, I was about leaving.” Rhaegar hinted at his almost untouched wine. “Your sworn brother will find in you a more agreeable drinking companion.”

“Pleasure is not to be despised; that is not to say, everyone can find it in the same cup.” Lewyn smacked his lips finally, broke the sun and spear seal, and glimpsed at his letter. “My nephew seems to find amusing trying all the cups at once. Most would do otherwise; but is there any shame in tasting a different cup from the one a larger number sticks to?”

Arthur had kept silent till then, but agreed with him. “I found no shame in that.”

He faulted on Dornish red the sudden heath on his cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> _He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyes_  
>  _Were strange with wondrous brightness, staring wide_  
>  _With gazing; and he sighed with many sighs_  
>  _That moved me, and his cheeks were wan and white_  
>  _Like pallid lilies, and his lips were red_  
>  _Like poppies, and his hands he clenched tight,_  
>  _And yet again unclenched, and his head_  
>  _Was wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death._  
>  _A purple robe he wore, o'erwrought in gold_  
>  _With the device of a great snake, whose breath_  
>  _Was fiery flame..._  
>    
>  _'I am the Love that dare not speak its name.'_  
>    
>  _Two Loves, Lord Alfred Douglas._


End file.
